


Hungry for Sky

by SassySnowperson (DramaticEntrance)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Shattered Empire
Genre: Character Study, Coming of Age, Flying, Gen, Immigration & Emigration, Young Shara figures out what she wants to do with her life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 22:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson
Summary: Shara’s first love was the sky. She had no idea how to get there.She flew until the air was thin and she was dizzy with it. She looked down and could see the curve of the world stretching out beneath her. Feeling wild and freer than she had ever been, Shara pointed the nose of the airspeeder at the ground and dove; for long second after second Shara existed untethered from gravity.A story of loving families, hard choices, and figuring out who you want to become.





	Hungry for Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dolly_Bassett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolly_Bassett/gifts).



> “The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity.” - Amelia Earhart
> 
> For [Dolly Bassett](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolly_Bassett). I’ve loved our talks about flying, and big decisions, and when this fic started taking shape in my brain, I realized it was for you. Hopefully a bit of a send-off to your new adventures. May tenacity carry you through!
> 
> Huge, HUGE thanks to [moreissuesthanvogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreissuesthanvogue) for stepping up when I realized that Shara was an immigrant kid. You gave me an inside view of the situation, and made sure I told the story with respect. It’s a better story for your help, thank you.
> 
> [Yzazar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Yzazar) was also amazing, coming from out of nowhere to help me sort out idiomatic expressions in Spanish. Muchisimas gracias.

* * *

When Shara and Ronson broke up, she decided there were three reasons to be grateful for their time together. First, his patient tutoring was the only reason that Shara passed her utterly pointless Core Worlds Classical Culture class. Second, his sloppy makeout technique taught Shara she expected more from the men in her life. The third—and by far the most important—was Brisa.

On Ronson’s sixteenth birthday his parents had bought him a shiny new T-21 C-Wing, and as long as Shara pretended to be a worse pilot than him, he’d let her fly it. Shara immediately named it Brisa and fell in love with it so thoroughly and comprehensively that she should have realized right then that she and Ronson were doomed. 

Instead, they’d lingered for another six months; the fact that they were the best six months of Shara’s life had everything to do with Brisa and nothing to do with Ronson and, honestly, that was the whole problem. But Shara fell in love, fell in love with the kick-swoop of acceleration, with the tickling lift of weightlessness, with the pounding anticipation of every liftoff and touchdown. 

Shara fell in love with who she was behind the yoke. She felt interesting, she felt talented, she felt worthwhile. She felt like an adventure. She was level-headed and quick-witted and certain in a way she wasn’t anywhere other than in Brisa’s cockpit.

One day, Ronson snoring in the passenger seat, Shara had climbed for atmo, taking the airspeeder up, up, higher than she’d ever dared before. She flew until the air was thin and she was dizzy with it. She looked down and could see the curve of the world stretching out beneath her. Feeling wild and freer than she had ever been, Shara pointed the nose at the ground and dove; for long second after second Shara existed untethered from gravity. 

Ronson woke up halfway through and started screaming. They awkwardly shuffled apart four days later. 

“No boy is worth these tears.” Mamá had said when she found Shara sniffling, right and wrong all at the same time. Even if she could have afforded a ship like Brisa, Mamá never would have thought of buying one for her teenage daughter. “Mija, you go to school. You learn. That’s your job. You have this opportunity, don't waste it.” 

Shara wasn’t sure what exactly her mother expected her to be. She suspected her mother didn’t know what she expected Shara to be, except for A Success. Some sort of brilliant doctor-lawyer-businesswoman-politician. Education was the opportunity her mother never had. 

Mamá had fled her home planet of Roya, for reasons that, as far as Shara knew, began and ended with “The War.” She came to their current factory-standard Mid-Rim planet with almost no education, barely able to speak Basic, and carrying two-year-old Shara. 

Roya was an odd shape in Shara’s mind, all colors, no outline. Her only memories of it were reconstructed from what her mother shared: sun-soaked plazas with green bursting out of every conceivable crack, gleaming modern transparisteel structures shoved up next to utilitarian duracrete warehouses next to weathered stone buildings older than any sentient species memory. They celebrated the holidays, honored the traditions, ate foods Mamá assured Shara were traditional. But Mamá never talked about their family, never talked about The War. 

When Shara was seven, she decided to press, ask more pointedly about her grandparents, about what happened. Mamá—solid and strong and dependable as the sun—started crying. The knowledge that her mother was breakable had horrified young Shara, and she never pressed further. It must have been bad. Mamá had protected her, and that was enough. 

Shara’s mother had found a job in a corner store, giving the aging owners hour after hour of her time. She worked hard, went from stockroom to shift lead to manager, until she had enough money to buy it outright. 

When Shara was twelve Mamá had hung the proud sign of “Bey’s Food and Liquor” from the front of the building. That sign was a symbol of hope, supposed to springboard Shara into new and better heights. It’s why Mamá had sent her off to a private high school on the other side of the hovertrain tracks, money from the store poured into Bilgestrom Academy. It was a school that would let her rub elbows with people that could give her A Future. 

Whatever A Future looked like, Shara was about ninety-five percent sure it didn’t include anything like Brisa. So Shara did her best to kill off the part of herself that hungered for sky, tried to be the daughter her mother wanted. 

She had mixed results. 

Shara was friendly with everyone and friends with very few people. The easy friendships she had forged in elementary school with every shape and color of sentient species came so much harder in this pressure cooker for the bright and wealthy. Better to keep relationships superficial than risk the teasing that would come with people discovering her one-bedroom apartment and the spiced and leaf-wrapped food she grew up on.

Better to focus on school. She excelled in math, especially geometry. She did well in sports, coming alive with competition. She was decent in history, memorization easier than caring about long-dead Core citizens. She was fine in language, a part of her still pained she had traded her mother’s rich tones for a bland mid-rim nothing of an accent. She got through her art classes by the skin of her teeth, teachers liking her well enough but declaring her hopeless. 

She involved herself in three different extracurricular activities that would look good on college applications. 

And one that wouldn’t. 

“Bey!” Upiq said, her mouth-tentacles twitching with good cheer as Shara entered the hangar. “We’ve got a RZ-1T trainer in, shield deflector is faulty, I want your diagnosis on it.” 

The only reason Bilgestrom Academy had a Speeder Repair and Maintenance elective was because Enilak Bilgestrom IV had believed that understanding vehicles was key to living a well-rounded life and had left an obscene amount of money earmarked for that purpose. The Academy, bless their greedy little hearts, had loved money even more than they hated blue collar work. 

“On it!” Shara grabbed her tools and went over to the vehicle, eyes widening when she realized this wasn’t your standard airspeeder. This beauty was kitted out to handle vac. She was going to hug Upiq so hard for saving this one for her.

Repairing and maintaining ships had nothing on flying them, but if Shara couldn’t do one she was absolutely going to take her chance to do the other. 

Two hours later the faulty shield deflector was repaired. Technically, thirty minutes later the shield deflector was repaired, but after that it only made sense to check the power lines, and then the fuel cells, and it had a sublight thruster that looked a little rusty so…

“Bey.” There was a nudging at her feet. 

Shara dragged herself out from the underside of the ship with a sigh, pushing hair back from her face. 

Upiq’s webbed fingers flicked against each other in a gesture that Shara had learned was amusement. 

“I smeared oil across my face again, didn’t I?” Shara said, looking down at her hands. 

Upiq gave a click-grunt of affirmation. “How’s the ship coming?” 

“I’m in love.” Shara wiped her hands clean and ran gentle fingers along the nose of the craft. “She’s beautiful.” 

Upiq’s tentacles twitched. “You say that about every ship that comes through here.” 

Shara looked up at Upiq. “I have a lot of love to give.” She tried to smother the grin pressing at the corner of her mouth. 

“You do.” Upiq didn’t rise to the joke in Shara’s words, instead fixing her with a considering look. “Shara, clean up and come to my office. I need to speak with you.” At Shara’s worried look, Upiq shook her head, “Not bad! Don’t look so worried.” 

Shara made her way over to the wash basin, cleaning her hands and scrubbing at the oil slick down her forehead. She deliberately didn’t get all the oil from underneath her fingernails. She liked the look of grease. It reminded her that she had done something.

Upiq’s closed office door caused a flutter of nerves to ignite in Shara’s stomach. Upiq was important in the same way Brisa had been. She was a glance into another world, one Shara wanted more than anything—anything other than her mother’s approval. Unfortunately, her mother’s approval and being at home on a landing pad seemed mutually exclusive. 

Shara sat down across from Upiq. “I didn’t even know you had an office.” Shara grinned, keeping her face cheerful but twisting her hands together. 

“It’s usually for decoration,” Upiq agreed. “Shara, you graduate this year, correct?” 

Shara nodded. “Yes.” 

“Have you put some thought into your next steps?” 

“I feel like I haven’t been doing much else.” The side of Shara’s mouth twisted up. She braced for the conversation she had had about eighteen times in the last three months. Four major colleges she hoped to get into, one to two things she was excited about from each college, and three possible futures she was hoping for. 

“You are smart. You have options. I am not here to make your life easier. Instead, I have another option.” 

Shara tilted her head. 

“I know several cargo pilots and shipping companies willing to take on mechanical and aviation apprenticeships. They are competitive slots, but my word still counts for quite a bit in that world, and I’m willing to sponsor you for one of them.”

“I could fly,” Shara blurted out, unable to help herself. 

Upiq’s tentacles gave their amused twitch. “Yes. That is the point.” 

For a long moment, Shara could see her future unspooling out in front of her. Her and the stars. It would be hard work, sure, but rewarding. She would help keep a ship running, learn how to fly it. She couldn’t say for certain that she would be happy but...that future felt much more real than her hypothetical Future where she was a doctor-lawyer-businesswoman-politician.

Then, Shara tried to imagine telling her mother that all the work she had done so that Shara could have a better life was going to be thrown away. She couldn’t do it. Shara loved flying, loved who she was when she was flying, but she loved her mother more. She chewed on her lip, tried to force the tears welling behind her eyes to stay there. “I can’t. There’s this whole...plan. Flying’s not really a part of it.” 

Upiq made a trilling sort of coo sound. Shara hadn’t heard that noise before. Anger? Frustration? “And why isn’t it a part of the plan?” 

Shara swallowed around a lump in her throat. “My family has worked really hard to get me, you know, here. Giving it up to go and fly…” Shara’s voice cracked on the word fly. “It’d be disrespectful.” 

Upiq’s hum-click sounded understanding. “You don’t have to tell me one way or another right now. Shara, listen, I am not the teacher that tries to shuffle all her students off into piloting. Most of these pretentious idiots have only swum in warm calm water, and it shows. I wouldn’t trust them near an engine. But you have talent and more importantly, you love it.” 

Shara felt warmth trickle down her cheek, and she decided that the only way to get out of this conversation with her dignity intact was to ignore it and hope Upiq did the same. 

Upic made the hum-click again, and reached across the table and grabbed Shara’s hand. “Just promise me this; that you will consider it. More than that, know that whatever you chose, whatever you feel is right, the fact that I offer is a sign of respect. It’s respect you’ve earned.” 

Shara reached forward with her other hand, squeezing Upiq’s. “Thank you.”

* * *

Shara walked home from school. It was a long walk, but after being figuratively flayed open by Upiq’s surprising offer, she needed the time to think. It was easier to accept the fact that she wasn’t flying when she knew that she couldn’t. Now that it was a possibility and she was _choosing_ not to...Shara sighed. 

That was harder. 

She pushed open the door to her apartment and inhaled the scent of spice and sizzling meat. Some of the tangled mess inside of her relaxed. This was home. As much as she loved the idea of jumping to the black, she could never give this up. “Mamá, I’m back. It smells amazing!” 

“You always say that.” Mamá set down the spoon and turned around, arms open. 

Shara gave her a hug. “It’s always true.” 

Around the table, plates full of steaming food in front of them, Mamá asked the usual questions. “How did the test go? The one you worried about?” 

“Okay, I think I got most of the answers, just missed a few.” 

“You’re better than that.” 

“I know.” 

“You study hard, you get good grades.” 

“I know.” 

There was a comfort to the familier back and forth of the conversation.

“You’re a smart girl, and friendly. Your teachers like you. That’s going to give you opportunities, cariña.” 

The next line should have been an exasperated, ‘Si, lo _sé_ ,’ and then a transition into a story of something that had gone well during the day. This time, though, Shara’s stomach seized. She wasn’t able to think about anything other than Upiq sitting across the desk from her, offering her a future she knew she’d have to turn down. 

Shara forced herself to swallow the bite of food she had been eating then reached for her water, choking down a gulp. She tried to take a breath to steady herself, but her chest hitched. 

“Mija, what’s wrong?” Her mother put down her napkin. “Did the test bother you that much? Did something else happen? Did someone hurt you? A boy? You shouldn’t let boys bother you, they are not worth it. You know—”

Shara choked out a laugh, waving her hand. She took a sniffly breath, then said, “No, no, Mamá, it’s fine. I’m fine. I just had a conversation today, and I’ve been thinking about it...a lot.” 

Shara’s mom relaxed. “Oh, okay, that’s alright. Tell me, what’s going on?” 

Shara bit her lip, briefly considering dodging the question, or making something up. She really didn’t want to get all teary-eyed again. But while Shara’s mom understood very little of the pressures and challenges of Shara’s life, she had always encouraged Shara to tell her anyway. 

_‘I understand more than you think,’_ her mom had said, _‘and sometimes your heart just needs to talk.’_

Shara picked up her fork again, staring down at her plate as she said, “I had a conversation with one of my teachers today. They liked my work, and were willing to recommend me for an apprenticeship on a trade vessel. Engineering and aviation, that sort of thing.” Shara glanced up, her mother’s face was unreadable. She hurried to add, “Don’t worry, I told her no, but it just…meant a lot that she asked.” 

“Your words say you are happy, but your body says sad. Why are you sad about this?” 

Shara poked at her food, not really able to consider eating it. “I don’t know. I just...I know it’s not the plan, right? I’m doing all this work, going to get into a good college, all the stuff you say. I am. But this sounded nice. I don’t know. It’s dumb.” 

“You are sad because you wanted what she offered?” Shara’s mom’s forehead furrowed as she stared at her daughter. 

“No!” Shara dropped her fork in frustration, it clattered against the plate. “Yes? Ships make sense. I like them. But you didn’t pay all this money to send me to a private school so I could become a _cargo pilot_. I know that. I know it’s not for me! I just...wish it was. Sometimes. Right now, at least.” 

“You’d rather take you teacher’s offer than go to university?” 

“No.” Shara felt the lie in the words even as she said them. “I mean, I _want_ to, but I know it’s not the right thing to do.” Shara felt the lurking tears well up behind her eyes again. “I have to go.” 

Shara stood up and awkwardly sped-walked into the bedroom. She ducked behind the thin divider that was her mother’s concession to Shara’s growing desire for privacy, and in the relative seclusion of her bed let the tears come out. 

About fifteen minutes later Shara heard the sound of the door creaking as her mother eased her way into the room, asking, “You want to be alone more?” 

Shara sniffed. “No.” 

“I brought water.” 

Shara sat up and reached for the glass as her mother came over and sat on Shara’s bed. 

They sat together for a quiet moment, before Shara’s mother said, “You know, your uncle Prilto, he flew a passenger shuttle.” 

“I didn’t know that.” Mamá’s family had been large. There was one flickering holo that displayed in the main room, Mamá as a young girl surrounded by other children and shepherded by a group of happy-looking adults. When Shara was little she had begged for stories of this family-that-wasn’t, but Mamá always changed the subject. Eventually, Shara stopped asking. 

“Back and forth between the major cities on Roya. He always wanted to fly with the stars, but he said he loved his family too much to consider leaving.” 

“Mamá, I—” 

“Shush, I’m still talking. When the war came to Roya it took his life. Took most of our family.” 

Shara held up her hand. “I didn’t mean to say—”

Her mother gave her an affectionate swat on the shoulder. “Tch! I am talking. Rebellious child.” 

Shara gave a tentative smile and fell silent. 

“I can’t help but wonder, if he was off of the planet, would he have had more options? Could he maybe have gotten some more of us off? I don’t know the answer. I do know that I wanted you to have every opportunity in the world, Ay!”—When Shara opened her mouth to protest that she _wasn’t_ throwing away that chance, her mother cut her off and kept going—“so that you could choose what you wanted to do. Including, if you want to, fly.” 

Shara fell silent, her mouth going open. She couldn’t mean— 

Her mother reached forward and patted her leg. “You’re a good girl. You want to make your Mamá happy. And you do. If you want to go to university, go to university. If you want to take your teacher’s offer...you’re smart. You know it will be hard. But, pájarita, you have Prilto’s eyes. I would be proud, if you were a pilot.” 

Shara couldn’t do anything other than blink. 

Mamá smiled at her. “I will give you some time to think, yes? I’m here if you want to talk.”

* * *

Shara hadn’t been able to think clearly in the last two days. With one matter-of-fact conversation her mother had re-written the bedrock of Shara’s life. A Future, which had hung so nebulously over her for so long, suddenly had a possible tangible shape, and that terrified her. And thrilled her. 

All in all, it was a confusing time for Shara.

She’d avoided Upiq and the maintenance hangar entirely, probably not the most mature response, but she needed time to think. It was one thing to want something she could never have, another thing entirely to choose the course of her life. 

Shara thought that maybe she should take some time to talk this over with Upiq, or her mother, or one of the ubiquitous people she was friendly-not-friends with. The thought of talking left all the words tangled up inside her. It made her hands itch. 

On the morning of the third day, bare minutes before her first class was supposed to start, Shara looked up, watched the airspeeders flying by, and wanted to have her hands around a yoke so badly she was dizzy with it. She glanced down at her chrono and sprinted over to the maintenance hangar. 

Upiq’s tentacles twitched as Shara came skidding in. “Bey! I was worried you had been eaten, or encountered a similarly unpleasant fate.” 

Shara shook her head. Her words came out in a breathless jumble. “No, not eaten. I’d like to speak to you, do you have time after school?” 

Upiq nodded.

“Okay, good, I’ll see you then.” Shara waved and sprinted over to her next class. 

She barely focused on any of the lectures, datapad out and looking like she was taking notes, but really trying to work through question after idea after complicated hypothetical. 

Somehow making it through the day, she took a breath, marched into the hangar, and nodded at Upiq. “I think this is an office sort of conversation.” 

Upiq scanned the open space, taking in the various students working on projects after-hours. “Everyone here knows what they’re doing. After you, Ms. Bey.” 

Sitting down across from Upiq, Shara opened her mouth. “I want to fly.” 

“I thought it wasn’t in the plan,” Upiq said, gently.

“It turns out the plan is...more flexible than I originally thought. But. I still don’t have a lot of information. I want to fly.” 

“You mentioned that.” 

“Try to convince me not to,” Shara said, leaning forward across the desk. “Tell me every terrible reason I would be better served going to University and becoming an accountant, or something.”

Upiq clicked in amusement. “That doesn’t seem to serve my cause well.”

“I figure that anyone can want to feel the wonder of being weightless and love the smell of metal and oil and be addicted to the kick of acceleration and be desperate to escape the prison of gravity—”

“I think you might be overestimating how common some of those things are—”

“But if you tell me about the horrible unglamorous things and I still want to do it? I figure that means something.” 

Upiq flicked her fingers together and considered Shara for a moment. She leaned across the table. After a long moment, she leaned across the table and said, “You will never be truly clean. Oil is ubiquitous, and no matter how long you scrub, or how careful you are, it will seep into your pores and hide under your gills.” 

“Um.” 

“Or whatever your equivalent is. It’s never going to be properly quiet. Do you know how loud vehicles are? Even in the dead of space, there is always something humming, something buzzing, something beeping, and they never have the decency to all do it at the same rhythm. And that’s not even getting into your crewmates, who are an auditory treat, as well as an olfactory one.” 

Shara smiled, leaning back. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

* * *

Shara’s mother looked over at her. “I’m so proud of you, mija. You are going to be so amazing.” 

“I’m nervous,” Shara admitted, twisting her hands together

“What do you have to be nervous about? You’re smart, and you work hard. Everyone will be lucky to have you. I’m the one that should be nervous. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

Shara tipped over and leaned her forehead on her mother’s shoulder. “What do you have to be nervous about?” She asked, nuzzling with her nose. “I get it all from you. You’re brilliant. You’re diligent. It’s time for you to see what you can do without some annoying kid holding you back.” 

Shara’s mother cradled Shara’s head between her hands, lifting Shara off of her shoulder. She placed an affectionate kiss to her right cheek. “You have never held me back.” She kissed the left cheek. “You were annoying, though.” 

Shara burst out laughing, and her mother smiled. “There we go. That’s my beautiful girl. Échale ganas.” 

Shara nodded. “I will.” After a long moment she threw her arms around her mother. “Thank you.”

Shara walked through port security and showed her scandocs. She looked out over the teeming crowd of people, all hurrying from one ship to another, loading and unloading cargo, credits and noise and bustle everywhere. She looked down at her datapad then looked back up, shaking her head.

What had she done? _What had she done?_ She could be in a nice shuttle heading off to some nice Core World university ready to spend the rest of her life in a nice office. Instead she was _here_ and it smelled like oil and sweat and...urine? 

Feeling very young and very stupid Shara made her way over to Bay 27. Her heart was hammering as she walked up to the landing pad. And then it picked up again, for an entirely different reason. 

A VCX-100 light freighter stood on the landing pad, triangle wings expanding from the body, jutting transparisteel cockpit perched on top of a gunning station, sleek lines running the ship back, another gunning station at the top of it. Shara licked her lips, eyes going wide as she stared at the ship. It was beautiful.

[[Girl, you’re the trainee?]] A four-limbed Culisetto caught sight of her and skittered up the underside of the ship, dropping and twisting to land on its four feet before scurrying over to her. Its long nose unrolled and poked at her. Shara felt sincere and profound joy that Upiq had negotiated her contract in such a way that it was very clear Shara was not a food source for the blood-digesting alien.

“Yes,” she said, getting her pounding heart under control. “Bey. Shara Bey.” 

[[I’m—]] An unpronounceable clicking sound emerged from the creature’s throat.

Shara nodded, wondering exactly how long she could get away with not referring to the captain of the ship by name. 

[[Just kidding. You should see the look on your face. Call me Captain Dehvue.]]

Shara huffed a quick exhale and smothered a glare. “Of course, Captain Dehvue.” 

[[We don’t really stand on formality here. You’ll call me Dev before too long, but let’s try for a week or two of respect before we get there. Get on board, stow your kit. We’re off in three hours.]] Captain Dehvue scurried off again, feet sticking to the ship and climbing it, seeming to stop somewhere around the gunning embankment on the top of the ship.

“Yes Captain,” Shara called to his retreating figure. She walked up to the ship and tentatively laid her fingers against it. “What’s your name sweetheart?” 

A throat cleared next to her and she jumped, spinning to look at the interloper. An unfairly attractive man was smiling at her. 

“I was talking to the ship!” Shara sputtered, her cheeks heating up. 

“Shame,” he grinned. Shara briefly wondered what the chances were that she could spontaneously combust. He took pity on her and looked back at the ship. “She’s named Traveler’s Reward.” 

Shara’s attention was drawn back to the ship, and she pressed her palm against it. “I’ll bet you are,” she said to it, softly. It thrummed under her palm. “I’ll take good care of you, Cariña.” She sat there for a moment with the ship, feeling everything settle. It was going to be alright. 

She patted the ship twice before turning back to the man. “Okay. I’ve made my introductions, figure I should get my stuff stowed now.” 

The man arched an eyebrow at her. “We will be flying together.” 

Shara arched an eyebrow back. 

“What’s _my_ name?” the man asked. 

The heat that had retreated off of Shara’s cheeks made a rallying cry and charged back in. She covered it with a wave of her hand. “I’ve made the _important_ introductions.” 

The man laughed. “Kriff, you’ll fit right in. Alright, fine, I’ll break first. I’m Kes Dameron, mechanic, bodyguard, and dogsbody.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Kes. I’m Shara Bey.” She walked past him, up the ramp. “Apprentice mechanic, pilot, and person who is very eager to get to know her new ship.” 

“You’ve been here four seconds. It’s not _your_ ship.” Kes followed her up. 

Shara trailed her hand along the hallway as she made her way to sleeping quarters. “Don’t listen to him, mami, he’s just jealous I like you best.” She found the unused quarters and tossed her bag on the bed.

Kes made an awkward coughing sound behind her and Shara grinned to herself. 

[[Oh no. Do not make me regret employing two humans. Cease with the mating behavior at once.]]

“Don’t worry, Dev, pretty sure I’m a distant second to the ship.” Kes gave the captain a good-natured fist bump, cheerful nod to Shara as he passed her, making his way down to the cargo hold.

Captain Dehvue was giving Shara considering look. [[Well, that’s good. Once you’re done storing your things, come on up to the cockpit. Might as well see how useless you are now.]]

Shara made an affronted noise. 

[[Don’t take it personally. Everyone is useless. You will be less useless by the end of the trip.]]

Captain Dehvue let her sit in the copilot seat as he took the ship slowly up and out of atmosphere. Shara knew she should be watching what he pushed, how he worked, but she was breathless, realizing she was leaving the planet she had been stuck on since she was two years old. 

Shara leaned forward, eyes darting out the viewport, watching as her home shrank from city to blob to blur, as the horizon curved and receded until she looked down at the world, cloaked in the night sky, entirely separate from the ground she had called home since she was a toddler.

With a lack of ceremony utterly at odds with the momentous feeling in Shara’s chest, Captain Dehvue punched in a few calculations and threw a lever. With a shiver of acceleration that threw Shara to the back of her seat, the ship jumped and punched past the stars, taking Shara with it.

**Author's Note:**

> “The stars seemed near enough to touch and never before have I seen so many. I always believed the lure of flying is the lure of beauty, but I was sure of it that night.” - Amelia Earhart
> 
> I think Amelia and Shara would have gotten along. :) 
> 
> Thanks for sharing this story with me! I have so much love in my heart for the Damerons, and I wanted to spend some time with Shara. I was also spending some time with my own wistful love of the stars, and if you share that too, I hope it echoed some of your own heart. 
> 
> [I’m on Tumblr,](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sassysnowperson) if you wanna come talk about the stars, real or fictional.


End file.
